


i loved you, it's cool (what happy days)

by jeffjung (pastel)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, NCT Dream as Real Teens with Real Drama, Pining, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Will have every version of OT5 at some point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-09-16 17:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16957998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastel/pseuds/jeffjung
Summary: Unbeknownst to Jaemin, going back to work also means landing right in the middle of whatever's going on between Mark, Renjun, Donghyuck, and Jeno.





	1. my first and last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jaemin returns, ten acts in kun's absence, and jeno watches it all unfold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> story title is from day6's "days gone by", chapter title is mfal.  
> this chapter contains underaged drinking and nudity/implied making out, but i will Never show anything graphic in this series! if you're uncomfortable with that though please don't read.
> 
> this will be a very long, slow-burn fic about the dreamies figuring out what they feel, how they feel it - it's as much a coming-of-age story as it is a romance! sort of like a long, interconnected character study.
> 
> all times/dates/mentions of the dorm layout are completely made up or based on my vague recollections from v-lives.

_December 2017. 1:04AM._

 

Most people would start the story the night Jaemin came back.

 

It was nighttime when he arrived at the dorm, roller suitcase in one hand and a still-warm container of his mother’s cooking in the other. Everyone else seemed to be asleep - the sun had set hours ago, and even the streets of inner-city Seoul were empty.

 

Jaemin toed off his sneakers and pushed them into the mess already in the entryway. The floor was cold through his socks.

 

Very suddenly, he realized there were no longer house slippers that fit him here.

 

This filled him with a hollow, sick feeling somewhere underneath his stomach. An unease. Maybe he shouldn’t have come back, maybe he should have just taken the chance to go and ran with it _._

 

But he was still here in the doorway. He was supposed to put his tupperware in the fridge and be ready for bed by the time the manager was done parking the car.

 

He didn’t have much longer.

 

He knew he had to follow the orders he’d been given, _knew_ it in a way he probably wasn’t supposed to at seventeen - everyone knew the rules were part and parcel of signing under SM, but -

 

He could not find it in him to move.

 

So he stood there, eyes adjusting to the darkness, tupperware cooling in one hand and luggage-handle growing sweaty in the other. It felt like he could have waited there forever, listening to the dorm breathe.

 

But then - the room creaked in a way it hadn’t before. And again, and again, until there was someone standing in front of him, blurry in the dark.

 

“They told me you were coming back tonight.” Mark’s voice, sleep-heavy and familiar but not quite right. “Oh, sweet, your mom packed food?”

 

Jaemin nodded, not sure of his ability to speak. Even in the shadows he could tell something was different about Mark - the way his skin stretched across his face, maybe, or the way he stressed every syllable so perfectly. Finally, Jaemin managed a whisper: “Fried rice. And there’s more in my suitcase.”

 

“Niiice,” Mark drawled again, his hands coming up to meet Jaemin’s around the container. Their fingers brushed, for a moment, and Mark’s hand was so warm - but he continued as if it never happened, so Jaemin did too.

 

“I’ll put this in the fridge, you can go to bed - your room this time around is the one down the hall from the bathroom, Jisung’s already asleep though, so,” Mark let out a yawn, betraying his own exhaustion, “Be quiet, yeah?”

 

At that Mark turned around to put Jaemin’s fried rice in the fridge, leaving Jaemin to head to his new room like he was supposed to. His suitcase stuttered over the ridge of the threshold with a _cl-click_. Jaemin walked slowly, socked feet feeling out this floor he knew but could no longer predict. He saw the fridge open, Mark’s tired face outlined in cold white light, his squinting eyes - and then it was darkness again.

 

When Jaemin reached the hallway, he ran his hand along the wall to find the door. It was already cracked open, slightly, and a small lamp filled the room with dim light.

 

Jisung was sitting up in the bed to the far left. “‘Re back?” He croaked out, eyes shut tight. It was obvious he’d just woken up. “I am,” Jaemin replied, laying his suitcase down by the foot of the bed laying parallel to Jisung’s.

 

Jisung nodded drowsily, slowly dropping back against his pillow. “Good. Miss’d ya.” He slurred before nuzzling into his pillow and promptly falling back asleep. His large feet stuck out under the fleecy blanket he was using. It took Jaemin a moment, but then he realized - this was the same gray blanket Jisung’s had since coming to SM. No wonder it was too small. The thought put a little smile on his face as he prepared to go to sleep himself.

 

At least some things never changed.

 

* * *

 

_November 2017. 10:57PM._

 

 _Most_ people would start the story when Jaemin came back to the dorms. Others - maybe more discerning others, like Zhong Chenle, for example - would start the story when Renjun and Donghyuck started sleeping together. It could be argued, Chenle acknowledged, that the story started when NCT Dream’s member lineup was finalized, or even all the way back when the original members of the ‘Mini Rookies’ first met each other in 2013 or so, but Chenle thought he’d found a fairly distinct turning point.

 

There were only a few things you had to take into account before deciding to begin the story there. A few axioms, if you would.

 

One: Donghyuck had been crushing on Mark for at least a year.

Two: Jeno, for all he could whiz through math problems and history textbooks, knew absolutely nothing about his own emotions.

Three: Mark spent too much time internalizing Johnny’s stories of American childhood.

And, lastly, the fourth rule: Renjun was chaotic and knew it.

 

Chenle remembers the night he’s certain this mess all started well. It was a month or two after their promotions for We Young had ended, that perfect lull in time when they had nothing in particular to be working on. Kun had been back in China for a family occasion, leaving Ten the only real adult in the dorm with them.

 

This didn’t happen often, and for good reason.

 

“You boys know you live in Korea, right? And you’re nearly adults now?” Ten had sat all six of them down on the floor in the living room, but didn’t give them time to respond. “So I hope you know that the minute, the _second_ you’re old enough, people are going to be jumping on you to drink.”

 

Jisung snorted, “The second?”, but quieted down after Ten shot him a look.

 

“I don’t want you doing anything stupid or hurting yourself, and it’s important to know your limits.” Ten swung his backpack around from behind him, and started to pull out bottles that clicked and clacked against each other, the hangul on their front not words Chenle was familiar with. “So if you want a safe space to learn about it, I’m letting you do that tonight. I’ll stop you before you do anything crazy - I just don’t want you to go into this blind.”

 

“Ten-hyung, I really don’t think we should-“ Jeno started, always the good citizen. He looked at the alcohol like it was going to bite him.

 

The expression on Ten’s face was even more annoyed than it had been at Jisung’s unnecessary snark, but at the same time softer, somehow. “ _You_ , more than anyone else, know what I’m talking about. I remember things, Jeno.”

 

The silence that fell after that was heavy, and no one moved. Based on their expressions, it seemed like everyone knew what Ten was referencing, except Chenle. He’d have to find that one out, at some point.

 

The bottles watched them all impassively, until -

 

Renjun reached an arm out, grabbing one of the bottles. “Yeah, what the hell,” he muttered, looking down at its glimmering wrapper. “What is this, though?” Renjun’s eyes flicked up to meet Ten’s, his voice wry. “I’m afraid the translations for different types of alcohol wasn’t a part of SM’s training.”

 

Jeno leans over, reads the label, then looks up at Ten, scandalized. “You’re “starting us off” with _vodka?!_ ”

 

* * *

 

_November 2017. 3:34AM._

 

Renjun was definitely drunk. Jeno could see it on his face, the pink flush of his skin. He was in a better state than Mark, though, who’d pinned Ten down by laying across his lap and was now babbling something in English, or Jisung, who had fallen asleep somewhere around two am curled up on his side.

 

After Renjun had decided to go along with Ten’s plan of introducing them to alcohol - _illegally!_ his mind added unhelpfully - the rest had given in. Except for Jeno himself.

 

(He had his reasons for that, but he wasn’t particularly in the mood to think about it right now. And besides, he had bigger problems on his hands.)

 

Like Renjun, who looked exceptionally pretty with that flush across his cheeks. He was chatting in the corner with Donghyuck about something - probably astrology or tarot, knowing the two of them.

 

Jeno watched them from across the room, where he’s sitting on the couch beside Ten, who is, as promised, sober as well. He felt - a little awkward, tonight. He’d been the only one to abstain, and though he knew they all understood, he couldn’t help but feel like he was being a little dramatic, maybe. So he’d spent most of the night chatting with Ten instead, who he’d discovered had been surprisingly genuine in his intentions.

 

(“God, yeah, I don’t know if you remember, but the first time Taeyong ever drank was at a company dinner, and of course then he was the youngest then and those things just keep on going and going - it’s a miracle he didn’t go to the hospital that night, honestly. And still, he was puking his guts up half the morning, anyway.”)

 

Suddenly, Jeno sees Renjun move. His grasp around Donghyuck’s wrist has tightened, and he leans in to whisper something, that mischievous smile on his face. Donghyuck - Donghyuk nods, it seems like, which only makes Renjun’s smile grow wider. Then Renjun is pulling Donghyuck up and into a different part of the dorm, nearer the bedrooms and away from the living area. Something secretive?

 

Ten is distracted by Mark, who has added jerking hand gestures to his English mumbling, and looks up at Ten with a joy in his eyes Jeno can only describe as childlike.

 

He waits a few long minutes to see if Renjun and Donghyuck will come back, if they just needed to use the bathroom, or something.

 

But they don’t.

 

“Uh, Ten? I’m gonna go check on Renjun and Hyuck real quick,” He mutters, maybe too silently - Ten acknowledges him, but only barely.

 

Jeno pulls himself off the couch and starts towards the back of the dorm himself - Jisung’s bedroom is the nearest, and Donghyuck and Mark’s, usually empty when 127 is promoting, is the smallest and at the end.

 

They’re not in Jisung’s room, or Renjun and Chenle’s. Chenle is, though, his laptop propped up on his knees. “Have you seen Renjun or Donghyuck?” Jeno asks, leaning through the doorway.

 

“Nah,” Chenle shrugs. He’d only had a little to drink - it really didn’t taste the way you’d expect it to - and decided to spend the night gaming instead. “But I haven’t really been paying attention to anything.”

 

Jeno nods, and returns to the hallway, deducing that there’s only one place left that they could be. A few more steps, and -

 

The door is slightly open, and Jeno feels like his breath is caught in his throat.

 

* * *

 

_November 2017. 3:42AM._

 

Chenle doesn’t put his headphones back on after Jeno leaves. Last he saw, Jisung was sleeping, Mark was giggling with Ten, and Renjun and Donghyuck were still drinking.

 

Oh, wait. Renjun and Donghyuck, drunk? That was only asking for trouble. Quietly, he set his laptop down on the bed, and tiptoed into the hallway, careful not to let any of the floorboards creak. Jeno was standing there, blankly, mouth slightly open as he looked into Mark and Donghyuck’s room.

 

Chenle made his way behind him, peeking over Jeno’s shoulder through the space in the door.

 

Renjun’s skinny back was bent over on the bed, honey-colored hands coming out from under him to grab at his waist, cradle his neck. It was obvious that at the very least they were kissing, shirtless. Quite aggressively.

 

Thankfully, the duvet was piled up at the end of the bed, blocking anything else from Chenle’s line of sight.

 

He dared a glance at Jeno. He looked like he was about to cry. That was - interesting, bad, not unexpected?

 

Chenle didn’t know how it made him feel, exactly, and he sure as hell didn’t know what Jeno was feeling, but the both of them probably shouldn’t be watching whatever this was.

 

He stuck a hand out from behind Jeno and waved it in his line of sight, which did break Jeno out of his silent reverie. He pulled Jeno from the doorway to Donghyuck’s room to Jeno’s own with a firm hand on his shoulder, and left with a tight smile that Jeno didn’t return.

 

Yeah, looking back on it, that was definitely when it all started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave kudos & comments if u enjoyed!  
> & u can find me on my brand new twitter @jenorising  
> 


	2. tell me all the things you want to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> donghyuck avoids a conversation, jaemin realizes that maybe nothing is the same, and jisung asks mark for help.

_NOVEMBER 2017, 7:51PM._

 

Donghyuck had never been the type to pursue confrontation. Accidentally cause it, sure, but when he could smooth things over and let the passage of time heal wounds like it was supposed to, he did. His current problem, though, wasn’t so much an argument as it was a question that wouldn’t leave his mind.

 

Oh, what the hell. They were alone now, anyway, laying across his bed. There was no other way around it. He clasped his hands together, gathering strength, and then let go.

 

“Renjun, what are we?”

 

At this point, they’ve kissed, they’ve spent nights together, but still Donghyuck found himself scared of hearing Renjun’s answer. Not because he was worried about himself. No - he felt guilty. Had he been leading Renjun on this whole time? While he appreciated everything they’d done, definitely didn’t regret any of it - he was more than grateful to get to _kiss_ a _real boy_ for the first time in basically forever - he knew his heart could never belong to Renjun the way it was supposed to in this sort of situation.

 

(Instead, a Leo who looked more like a kitten came to mind, along with forever-unfinished science fiction novels and laughter blooming out of thin air.)

 

Renjun looked up from his notebook, where he’d been sketching a slightly more whimsical version of the design on the back of Donghyuck’s tarot cards. The whole deck was spread across Donghyuck’s bedsheets in front of the both of them, the few Renjun had drawn earlier face up.

 

“What do you mean? We’re friends,” Renjun replied easily, like he couldn’t feel the weight behind Donghyuck’s question.

 

“No, I mean, like,” Donghyuck didn’t want to sound too explicit, “like… the thing going on between us. That you started.”

 

And really, it was Renjun that started it - the night Ten let them drink, they’d been huddled in the corner talking about conspiracy theories and outer space or something, when suddenly Renjun had grabbed his hand and said, “You like boys, right, Hyuckie?” There’d been something in his eyes, then, charming and on fire. He’d pulled Donghyuck close, and with an impossibly soft, slightly tipsy giggle, he’d whispered in his ear: “Me, too.” When Renjun had fallen back, the blush on his face wasn’t just the drinks anymore. “Wanna come with me?” His voice was still soft, his smile open and bright. Donghyuck had no other option but to be convinced.

 

So Donghyuck didn’t regret it, not in the slightest. And it happened again, and again - until the present, where he was feeling increasingly nervous. Renjun’s expression didn’t change.

 

“Yeah,” Renjun insisted, “We’re friends.” He’d put down his pencil, dark eyes fixed on Donghyuck, now seeing right through him. “We can kiss, or like, whatever, but we’re still _friends_. Aren’t we?” There was a little bit of a challenge in Renjun’s last sentence, the slightest raise of his eyebrow. Things were rarely this serious between them, and Donghyuck didn’t like the atmosphere. “And I don’t see why we- we’re still teenagers, Hyuck, don’t we deserve to, like, have fun, and stuff? You like boys and I like boys, it works out.”

 

Donghyuck nodded, slowly, “Yeah, that makes sense, I guess.” Renjun smiled tightly and looked back down at his drawing, “I just-”

 

Renjun’s head shot back up, the beginnings of a furrow in his brow. Okay, maybe Donghyuck could pick this up another time, this clearly wasn’t a battle worth fighting right now. How could he diffuse the situation?

 

He pasted a toothy grin on his face, and leaned down.

 

“I just wanted to check, because I really wanna kiss you right now.”

 

* * *

 

_DECEMBER 2017,10:34AM._

 

The morning Jaemin woke back at the dorms for the first time was a good one. Usually, he didn’t sleep quite as well at the dorms as he did at home - the mattress was about half as thick as a mattress was supposed to be, for one - but after he’d finished unpacking and getting ready for bed, Jaemin had been so tired he passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

 

They’d been given a late start, too, nothing in particular to do until the evening. Jaemin dragged himself to the kitchen for breakfast, claimed one of the stools by the island in the center of the room in favor of actually eating in their “dining room”. It was an old habit, a holdover from the busy days just after debut, when they’d _maybe_ be able to grab a banana or two bites of rice before being shuttled out the door.

 

It was habit the others were still stuck with, too.

 

Donghyuck was rummaging through the fridge for something, and Jeno was slumped over his own bowl of breakfast, clearly still sleepy. There was what looked like a bruise on the side of Donghyuck’s neck. Jeno’s eyes were barely open.

 

“G’morning,” Jaemin muttered, getting a bowl out of the cupboard and beginning to make himself an omelette. He probably wouldn’t get the chance to each a _real_ breakfast for a while after this, so he decided to treat himself to this one.

 

“Morning!” Donghyuck replied after he shut the fridge door, a carton of chocolate milk in hand. Donghyuck wasn’t a morning person, really - he was just the kind of person who was _awake_ when he was awake, and _asleep_ when he slept. “Oh! Jaemin,” Donghyuck smiled when he turned around, “I didn’t know you’d be back today.”

 

There was another angrily purple bruise - it was circular, and Jaemin knew what it was but couldn’t quite make sense of it in the context of _Donghyuck_ \- nearer the center of his neck, lower than the one Jaemin had seen first.

 

“I got back late last night, the only people who knew were Mark and Jisungie,” Jaemin explained, rummaging around for a frying pan. “But I’m back for real now.”

 

“Are you making food,” Jeno’s voice cut in suddenly, the question flat. Jeno moved as little as possible to squint up at Jaemin. “Will you make me some. Please.”

 

The whole situation - Jeno, sleep-grumpy and only as hungry as the amount of food he could get without moving, Donghyuck’s easy conversation, the white morning light filtering in through the windows - it all felt desperately familiar, but wrong at the same time.

 

There was the fact that he couldn’t find the frying pan, there was the new space Jeno’s broader shoulders took up on the island countertop, and he hadn’t even begun to think about the _hickies_ on Donghyuck’s neck.

 

“Yeah, sure,” Jaemin replied, voice a little tight, eyes cast down to the ingredients in front of him. He didn’t think he could handle looking at anybody, at least not for a few minutes, when this wave of emotion passed.

 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” He heard Donghyuck say, “I should get started with my day, anyway.”

 

If he’d looked up, Jaemin would have noticed that Donghyuck brought the chocolate milk and two glasses with him as he left. But he hadn’t, and instead the most he could see was the tomato he was chopping and Jeno’s loosely fisted left hand.

 

Once the omelettes were frying on the stove, Jaemin began to talk. Jeno was his best friend here, had been for what felt like forever. “It’s so weird to be back,” He started.

 

Jeno hummed, and switched the side of his face he was laying on to look at Jaemin and the stove.

 

“Like… it’s the same, but not the same. And I can’t quite tell what’s different.” He looked down at the omelettes. They were almost done, just barely browning around the edges.

 

“If I give you this, you have to tell me everything that I’ve missed, how about that?” Jaemin offered. He’d give Jeno the omelette regardless, but he wanted to get his reintroduction over with. “And you’ll wash the dishes, please.”

 

Jeno hummed again, “‘Kay. Can I eat.”

 

He was always livelier after he’d eaten, so Jaemin complied.

 

The omelette disappeared around seven seconds after Jaemin plopped it onto Jeno’s plate. It left a little shadow of condensation on the white ceramic, and Jeno finally looked alive.

 

“Okay, so first, I gotta know,” Jaemin stabbed his fork in the direction Donghyuck left in, “What is up with _that_? You know, the whole,” he waved his fork in a small circle above his neck.

 

Immediately, a shadow fell over Jeno’s face, and Jaemin’s mind began to list every worst possible scenario: a creepy company executive, a sasaeng, Donghyuck was going to be kicked out and had decided he stopped caring -

 

Jeno began to speak. “I think Donghyuck and Renjun are dating. Or something. They haven’t really told us about it, but,” he spat the words out like they left a bad taste in his mouth, “they’re _fucking_ , at least. And apparently Renjun’s a biter. I’m surprised you didn’t hear them last night.”

 

“I thought Hyuckie was like, in love with Mark-hyung though?” The thought left Jaemin’s mouth without his realizing it. It had been universal truth when he’d left, just as Renjun and Donghyuck’s relationship seemed to be in this strange new reality. Jeno only shrugged in reply.

 

“Other than that, though…” Jeno focused on some spot on the ceiling, clearly trying to remember, “Not much? Just work stuff, but you probably saw all that from the, like, outside. We have a Station dropping soon and I think we’re learning the choreo for the big-big comeback starting next week but other than that…”

 

Jeno looked back in Jaemin’s eyes, and it was remarkable how _normal_ this face looked to him, even though its jaw was too square and its skin too dry to be the same Jeno he’d grown up with.

 

“I don’t know,” Jeno sighed, “I’m probably not the best person to ask. Since debut it’s kind of just been,” he passed one hand over his head, “ _woosh,_ it feels like.”

 

He pouted in solidarity, wishing again that he could’ve been here for Jeno - for all of them - but at the same time so thankful he doesn’t share the exhaustion in Jeno’s honest eyes. “Your mom still all over you?” Jaemin offered, knowing complaining about his family never failed to get Jeno riled up.

 

But instead, his best friend only sighed, and again Jaemin felt like the world was off-kilter.

 

* * *

 

_DECEMBER 2017, 3:04PM._

 

“Hey, Mark, could you help me out with remembering this part of the choreo? I just can’t get it.”

 

Jisung’s speech was punctuated by gasps for air, his chest heaving in time with the music - it was still playing even though Jisung had stopped dancing.

 

“Yeah, sure dude. Which part are you talking about?” Mark stepped away from the door of the practice, making sure the other members of Dream were actually taking their water break before walking back towards the mirror.

 

Jisung made a face, and grabbed at the air - he clearly didn’t know how to put the part he was thinking of into words, so he danced instead. His right arm followed the line of his body, then both came out at diagonal and swung around to the right. And he froze. “This part,” he said, arms still outstretched. “My mind is just - I can’t remember what happens next.”

 

Mark looked at him thoughtfully, trying to place the moves Jisung had shown him somewhere within Go’s choreography. He went through it quickly in his mind, running through the dance with loose, floppy gestures.

 

“Oh!” He had it figured out.

 

“It’s like, you grab at your heart with your right hand?” He acted out his words as he spoke, “And then you, like, turn your upper half and it’s like you grab a hammer with both hands near your neck, and then you just smash it into the ground.” He looked back to see if Jisung was following - he was, of course, and was doing the dance better than Mark had.

 

“Or that’s how I’m thinking of it right now, anyway,” Mark finished, “hopefully that will help you remember it?”

 

Jisung nodded, running through the section one more time. “It does, thanks.”

 

Mark hummed in response. “No problem.”

 

“You know,” Jisung bent down to grab his water bottle, watching Mark out of the corner of his eye, “I always forget you can actually be… helpful.” Mostly, it was just Jisung being Jisung, snarky and bratty and a little too harsh, but the words still stung.

 

Mark snorted a little, playing it off. “I’m very helpful, you just never bother to ask me.”

 

At this, Jisung shot him a look, dark and sincere and suddenly Mark remembered he was dealing with a fifteen year old. “I would but you’re never around anymore.”

 

“I- ,” There was truth in that, Mark had to admit. In the very beginning, when they had no concept of ‘NCT’ or even what it would really mean to _debut_ , Mark was usually considered one of the kids, grouped up with Jeno and Jaemin and Donghyuck and Jisung. It was only in the past few years that had started to change. “I’ll try to be from now on, okay?” He hopes it comes across as genuinely as he feels it. How many more things had he been missing? Subtlety and Jisung Park didn’t belong in the same sentence, and if he hadn’t realized even this - who knew what else was going on just under his nose.

 

Jisung seems appeased for now, though, giving Mark a jerky little nod. “But not just for me, okay?” And he’s back to being blunt, “The others need your attention, too. Like,” Jisung cut himself off, looked at Mark again in that same unfathomable, childishly honest way of his. “Just talk to them, okay? I think - and don’t get mad at me for saying this - but I think it would be good for you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are jisung and chenle the only ones with actual communication skills? idk maybe. all i know is that im really regretting writing this story in past tense bc i hate tenses!! chapter title is from lana del rey's "video games"
> 
> also, would u guys prefer character-centric chapters or chapters more like the ones i've posted that jump around?  
> as always, u can find me on my very inactive twitter, @jenorising. please leave a comment and kudo if you enjoyed!


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